one. It appointed my uncle
Silas my sole guardian, with full parental authority over me until I should
have reached the age of twenty-one, up to which time I was to reside under
his care at Bartram-Haugh, and it directed the trustees to pay over to him
yearly a sum of 2,000_l_. during the continuance of the guardianship for my
suitable maintenance, education, and expenses.

You have now a sufficient outline of my father's will. The only thing I
painfully felt in this arrangement was, the break-up--the dismay that
accompanies the disappearance of home. Otherwise, there was something
rather pleasurable in the idea. As long as I could remember, I had always
cherished the same mysterious curiosity about my uncle, and the same
longing to behold him. This was about to be gratified. Then there was my
cousin Milicent, about my own age. My life had been so lonely, that I
had acquired none of those artificial habits that induce the fine-lady
nature--a second, and not always a very amiable one. She had lived a
solitary life, like me. What rambles and readings we should have together!
what confidences and castle-buildings! and then there was a new country
and a fine old place, and the sense of interest and adventure that always
accompanies change in our early youth.

There were four letters all alike with large, red seals, addressed
respectively to each of the trustees named in the will. There was also one
addressed to Silas Alymer Ruthyn, Esq., Bartram-Haugh Manor, &c. &c., which
Mr. Sleigh offered to deliver. But Doctor Bryerly thought the post-office
was the more regular channel. Uncle Silas's representative was questioning
Doctor Bryerly in an under-tone.

I turned my eyes on my cousin Monica--I felt so inexpressibly
relieved--expecting to see a corresponding expression in her countenance.
But I was startled. She looked ghastly and angry. I stared in her face, not
knowing what to think. Could the will have personally disappointed her?
Such doubts, though we fancy in after-life they belong to maturity and
experience only, do sometimes cross our minds in youth. But the suggestion
wronged Lady Knollys, who neither expected nor wanted anything, being rich,
childless, generous, and frank. It was the unexpected character of
her countenance that scared me, and for a moment the shock called up
corresponding moral images.

Lady Knollys, starting up, raised her head, so as to see over Mr. Sleigh's
shoulder, and biting her pale lip, s